


One Day, It'll All Be Worth It

by 425599167



Series: Truth In Legends [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Gen, Gender Ambiguous Revan, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 04:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11073819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/425599167/pseuds/425599167
Summary: Now that the Sith are on the verge of total defeat, Revan takes a solo trip back to Rakata Prime to deal with one dangling loose end, and develops millennia-spanning plans to change the galaxy.





	One Day, It'll All Be Worth It

Malak was dead, the Star Forge destroyed, Bastila rescued, the Republic saved, all the heroes triumphant and the evil villains defeated.

 _Huzzah_ , Revan thought, not finding much joy in the whole situation.

There was one last order of business to take care of: the box.

That mysterious artifact was something loaded into the _Ebon Hawk_ back in Dreshdae, to be delivered to Anchorhead for a good profit. Unfortunately, Revan was only on Korriban to get the Star Map, and since it was the last one, acquiring it took priority. Then getting to the Star Forge took priority, one thing led to another, and it was still sitting in the cargo hold. There was enough to deal with at the time, so Revan had decided to leave it alone.

It wasn’t exactly polite to take the ship and leave everyone else behind, but they knew Revan would be back. After the battle on the Star Forge, the ongoing mopping-up of the collapsing and disorganized Sith Empire, Revan wanted something else to focus on.

_What a mess._

It was certainly no vacation, just something outside the main conflict. Something to do alone.

Revan only knew two things about the box, aside from its intended destination: it must never be opened, and it was Rakatan. The design elements became more and more recognizable after getting first-hand experience with the alien technology and aesthetics, along with Revan’s slowly returning memories.

A reasonable person wouldn’t go near it. A stupid person would open it immediately. Revan was neither, and proceeded to pick out one of the many deserted islands of Rakata Prime, or Lehon, as the Elders called it.

Flying over the sprawling ocean, Revan could see the horizon dotted with crashed ships corroding and collapsing into the water, year by year, century by century. Wind and tide had eaten all but the toughest original architecture ages ago. The graveyard of the infinite.

Not anymore, though, not with the disruptor field deactivated and the Star Forge torn apart within a solar storm.

_Their Empire rose, expanded, oppressed, eroded, fell._

The spread of war and conquest followed by defeat and conquest was something Revan was thoroughly familiar with by now. What was missing was a way to end this repetition once and for all.

_My empire rose, expanded, oppressed, eroded, fell. At a rather extraordinary pace._

_All that time spent searching through Rakatan ruins, I didn’t learn anything from them, even though I had every chance to._

Moving the box using the Force, Revan found a clear area surrounded by plenty of cover, left it in the center, and spotted the first test subject: one of the many friendly gizka hopping around. Revan picked one up, wondering how the creatures survived while being so unfazed by intrusion. There had to be things around here that ate the gizka, especially considering how fast they reproduce. Perhaps the creatures simply didn’t recognize humans as a potential predator. Who knows.

“Sorry, little buddy,” Revan said, gently petting the gizka behind what passed for its ears, using the Force to keep it hovering in midair, “this is for science.”

Then, Revan took cover behind a rock, put on a helmet for protection from light and sound, activated an energy shield, kept one hand on a lightsaber, and then telekinetically pressed the button to open the box while the gizka levitated helplessly in front of it.

A beam of white light shot out from the opening and struck the gizka, which then became limp and hung in the air for several seconds. Revan pulled it back, watching it until it was within arm’s reach. It was comatose, barely even breathing. Revan eyed the box suspiciously, then returned the gizka back to the spot it was in before, watching to see if anything else would happen. That light, whatever it was, hadn’t externally damaged the gizka at all. Revan hadn’t felt any heat coming off it, and there was no chemical reaction. No radiological warning, either.

As for the Force, Revan sensed nothing. Literally nothing. Technically living as it was, Revan could feel no life left in the creature.

That wasn’t possible. At least, not in this way. Revan had seen death, plenty of it, and could tell when a being’s life had returned to the Force. The gizka hadn’t. The box, whatever it was, however it worked, had taken it.

And if it could do that to a wild animal, it could probably do the same to a sapient being.

Considering the cruelty of the ancient Rakata, and the Star Forge’s technology allowing living beings to be held in a state of near-death, Revan deduced that was probably the box’s intended purpose.

Stepping forward and moving a hand over the engravings dotting the box’s surface, Revan could feel something inside. A life, a memory, something contained and controlled within the metal.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to help you.”

A minute later, the gizka’s body lay in the dirt, dying of brain death while Revan hauled the box back onto the _Ebon Hawk_.

 

* * *

 

The Rakatan Elders were in awe of the box, crowding around it as Revan explained to them what had happened, and they in turn explained what they believed the box was, and what it meant for them. A piece of completely intact technology from their lost empire. A prison for a mind. A survivor of their empire they intended to set free. A new source of knowledge after millennia of isolation and stagnation.

_A generation grows, learns, endure, dies. The lessons are forgotten. The next generation grows, learns, endure, dies. Rinse. Repeat. Forever._

“Are you certain you even want to release whoever’s in there?” asked Revan. “I said I’d help, but I have no idea if they were an innocent, or some rogue warlord. Or how many people might be in there. It’s been opened at least once before.”

“We will guard the prisoner until we can judge the threat,” assured the Head Elder. “The possibility of a direct link to the past is too rare an opportunity to let pass. All that is to be decided is who shall be the one to take the prisoner’s place.”

“There’s no other way to get them out?” asked Revan. “Rakatan computers have proven extremely sophisticated. Could the computer in the Temple of the Ancients handle a living mind?”

“Perhaps it could, but we have no knowledge of how to achieve such a feat,” Orsaa added. “Questions about our society and technology are why we must set this ancient mind free.”

“I will give my body,” said one of the older Rakata, one far past his prime. “If this device works the way you described, I will remain in the box. Our ancestor has endured many millennia inside it. They carry knowledge of our history which may be otherwise lost.”

“You’re willing to give up your life, to let your mind be erased?” asked Revan.

“It may save the Rakata. I must do it.”

Watching from the back of the enclave’s chamber, Revan observed the box being ceremoniously moved to the center of the enclave, the self-sacrificing Rakata slowly approaching it. He was nervous, clearly. Nevertheless, he opened the box, and the beam of light took him just like it had taken the gizka.

Several minutes passed, the body lying still on the floor. Revan wondered what exactly the Elders were trying to accomplish with this, none of them appearing concerned by the state of their comrade.

 _Is anyone going to learn from my mistakes? Or will someone else pop up in a century, bringing back the Sith to devastate the galaxy? I found the Star Forge. In a thousand years, will someone rediscover Malachor and get ideas?_ Revan thought, mind wandering during the lack of activity.

They all waited patiently, and Revan kept watching until another beam of light struck the Rakatan body again, bringing it back to life, slowly lifting himself up, looking around at the assembled Elders.

The Head Elder approached, flanked by four armed guards.

“Do you know where you are?” he asked.

“Yes,” the Prisoner said, moving his fingers, getting a feel for the new body. “You are the Elders. Your comrade told me of your intentions, and took my place in the prison.”

There were a few excited murmurs from the gathered Elders, who eagerly approached the new arrival with questions.

“Tell me, how did I return to our homeworld?” asked the Prisoner. “Alien beings came into the box, showing me how the galaxy had changed and forgotten us. I was certain I would never return here again.”

The crowd of Elders quieted and parted, giving the Prisoner a clear path to Revan, the only alien in the compound.

“So, it was you who delivered me home?” the Prisoner said, approaching Revan and bowing slightly in gratitude. “How can I repay you?”

“If you’re looking to thank me, I suppose I am out 2000 credits because I didn’t deliver the box as promised...”

“Um, cray-dets?” the ancient Rakata asked, unfamiliar with the currency and finding it odd to pronounce in his language.

“I’m kidding. You don’t owe me anything,” said Revan, who really didn’t have much to say. The job was done. “Hey, what happened to that gizka?”

“Last I saw, it was wandering around inside the void of the mind prison, confused as any animal would be, unable to return to its body,” said the Prisoner, as Revan’s face scrunched up in response. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, I’m just thinking about how, given the robustness of the mind prison, that gizka will probably outlive us all, and probably several galactic civilizations,” Revan said, chuckling. “Well, at least that Elder has some company now.”

“I am sad I can never repay him,” said the Prisoner, who was staring at his face in the polished metal of the enclave’s gong. “It is strange. I lived all those centuries alone, unable to see myself, forgetting even my own name. Now that I am out and can see my face, all I can recall is that it isn’t mine.”

“Hey, you have a new face, but that same mind. Sort of a reverse of my situation. I kept my face pretty consistent, but had a new mind in here for a while,” Revan said with a tap of the forehead. “Sort of. I still felt like me, but I’d suffered serious head trauma...Yet I’m _still_ ten steps ahead of everyone...Anyway, if you want to pay him back, live up to the reason he’s in there. Tell the Elders everything you can. I don’t need anything from you.”

"Isn't there anything-"

"No," Revan said sharply, trying not to be rude while also finding this really hard to care about.

The Prisoner nodded, he and the Elders watching and bowing as Revan left their enclave behind.

It would be really touching, if Revan could stop thinking about how irrelevant it was.

For centuries the Elders had been stuck in their enclave, unable to act. Just like the Jedi were too cloistered and blinded by light to enact lasting change. The only ones out of the Rakata who'd learned anything from their history were practically powerless despite that knowledge, while the majority scattered across the planet continued their cycle of conquest and collapse, miniature repetitions of their lost empire. It wasn't about to change just because Revan had brought back some ancient survivor. And the rest of the galaxy wasn't going to change because Revan had returned to stop Malak.

 

* * *

 

_It all goes round and round. Everyone learns things and is sorry afterwards. No one is ever smart enough not to fuck up to begin with. Not them, not the Sith, not the Jedi, and not me._

_Jedi build their order, enforce peace, forget war, are caught unprepared, and are killed._

_Sith build their order, begins wars, conquer others, cannot control their dark side, and kill each other._

_Warlord rises. Warlord is defeated. Warlord is imprisoned. Warlord regrets, and tells the ones who are what went wrong so they don’t follow the same path. The victims stay dead. The listeners grow old and die. Another warlord rises. Warlord is defeated..._

Revan returned to the _Ebon Hawk_ , considering options. It was possible to preserve life in various ways, and mastery of the Force tended to increase life expectancy. That wouldn’t be enough. Some new galactic war seemed to occur every few decades.

The Prisoner had endured all that loneliness and isolation in the faint hope of freedom. In the hope that he could still live.

How much would Revan endure in the hope, not only of survival and life, but in preventing this bloodshed from happening again? To actually get people to avoid repeating mistakes.

Maybe that was just arrogance. Revan trying to take control of everything because Revan knew best, Revan was better than other people, Revan could lead them to greatness...how’d that work out? The Republic barely surviving, countless dead.

 _But it’s all okay because it’s over now and you learned something, right?_ Revan thought sarcastically, blood rising at the thought of how many people had died.

Despite deserving every punishment, the freedom granted by the Jedi and a reluctant Republic offered Revan opportunities to save more lives in the future by preventing conflicts like this.

_It all adds up to nothing._

Then again, this could be a turning point for the Rakata. The One and his barbaric tribe were defeated, and the Elders had learned from the past. It’d taken 20,000 years, but they’d done it. Maybe Revan was undervaluing what they'd accomplished.

They’d preserved their past, rather than losing or forgetting it the way the Jedi, Sith, Mandalorians, and countless other factions had.

It gave Revan an idea.

Revan rummaged through some of the datapads Bastila kept under her bunk. She probably wouldn’t mind (this wasn’t the first time) and this was important.

The next generation needed to run things on their own, without repeating the mistakes of the past. Revan needed to be able to guide, rather than control. Nothing is permanent. Someone would figure a way out of this mess. Someone would, and Revan wanted to be there to help them, one way or another. No matter how long it took, no matter how much needed to be sacrificed.

There was an enemy to be defeated. Not any nation or government or ideology, only the failure of people to learn from their mistakes and the mistakes of others. If it took a hundred thousand years, Revan would win.

Smiling upon finding the necessary information, Revan began working on schematics. Something a little out of the ordinary compared to usual Jedi designs. Something stronger, more sophisticated and adaptable. Something that would endure millennia.

_Maybe I can help someone this time._

Revan didn’t do things in half measures, and making holocrons would be no exception.


End file.
